


You Know What They Say (If You Can't Join 'em, Wabajack 'em)

by Minya_Mari



Series: Unbound Before The Storm [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: I really should be packing, and doing homework, but fuck it, fem!Sheo, general weirdness, have this, poor Haskill, somewhere either during or after the Stormcloak Quest Line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:20:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minya_Mari/pseuds/Minya_Mari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel to Forsworn Queen and sequel to the still unfinished Unbound Before the Storm. Sheogorath decides to meddle in the affairs of Nirn; nudge people into wars and leave general confusion in her wake. fem!Sheo</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know What They Say (If You Can't Join 'em, Wabajack 'em)

The one thing that Mya did not expect to see at was a tiny sprite-like girl in a long, purple dress.

She did not fit with the other men and women there; the way she held herself was very different from the slumped or shaking forms of the other prisoners.

Galmar narrowed his eyes on her, and Mya watched as he zoned in on her strangeness.

"Who are you?" He asked gruffly, sternly; he did not like to waste his time.

It was when she tipped her head back and laughed and that even the black-haired man next to her jumped that they knew something was not right with her. Her laugh was that of a child's and it did not sit well with Mya, the hairs on her arms rising.

Ulfric Stormcloak sat up straighter in his seat, hand falling away from his chin. The girl was grinning at Mya, and she cocked her head.

"Brother told me you had aligned with the bear," the girl said whimsically. "I did not believe him." The girl stood, totally ignoring the stormcloak soldiers that unsheathed their swords not three feet from her. "And yet here you are, Dragonborn."

Mya stiffened, her rough hands automatically resting on the hilt of Shadowrend, and a glare settling in her features. "Who are you?" Mya demanded.

The girl's whimsical nature slipped a little, and anger flitted across her face. "You do not remember me? Ah, well I suppose I can forget just this once. I forget myself sometimes, did you know?" Here she paused as if to collect herself, but then she was rambling again. "Or maybe the me that isn't forgets that he's me? Or she forgets that she is him? I think that they should stop arguing so much. I get headaches that your puny little mortal minds could not wrap themselves around. Honest."

"Enough!" Ulfric shouted over the mad-girl's chatter. She stopped and glared at him balefully.

"What part of heads aching did you not understand, Bear?" she asked instead, words clipped with an under-current of some accent that Mya recognised. The girl's jade eyes gleamed with mischief. "Because I am quite sure, oh yes, that I could give you a demonstration on just how the mortal head can ache. Relmyna taught me much on that subject."

Galmar Stone-Fist drew his blade, and in turn, the stormcloaks in the hall did the same. "How dare you threaten the High King of Skyrim!"

Mya held a hand out to stop him, having figured out that the girl was either an apparition that Sheogorath had sent, or a follower, but she wasn't fast enough.

The girl rolled her eyes. "You cannot kill me with such flimsy things, oh no. I know because I have tried. Many times I've tried." She looked to Mya Reede then, and winked. "Pelagius wasn't too bad, eh?"

Now, Mya Reede wasn't known to be easily surprised; but this shocked her for a reason she couldn't name. "Sheogorath?" she asked still uncertain, flicking her eyes to Lord Ulfric and back to the daedra.

Sheogorath did a small, messy curtsy and rose with a grin. "I would say the one and only… but that would be a lie to the both of us and I'd prefer to tell truths that aren't tainted."

Ulfric, Mya found, was properly stunned and gazed at Sheogorath in both fear and amazement. But mostly disgust. "Daedra," he spat.

The Daedric Prince seemed to ignore the jab, simply saying, "Not quite," before she stepped away from the Imperial soldiers and towards Mya, the manic and demented smile ever present. "I have come to offer my support," she cocked her head to the side, her loose locks moving with her, "of a sort anyhow."

Mya groaned. One did not decline the favour of a daedra. Particularly if you had already had dealings with them before. "Always with a catch."

Sheogorath tilted her head haughtily, but said in a teasing tone, "I wouldn't be what I am if this was not the case."

Mya let out a tired growl. "What be your terms, Lord Sheogorath?"

Sheogorath tilted her head, dainty hand enclosing around her chin and lips pursed in thought. After a moment she came from her thoughts and grinned again.

"I cannot quite recall," she mused. "But I would bet my best Septim that Haskill knows." She flicked her eyes to Galmar, and Mya saw that they had changed from green to gold.

Sheogorath clicked her fingers before opening her palm. Violet tendrils slunk down her arms and settled around her fingers.

The grin took on an innocent-like gleam, but that hint of mischief still hovered around the edges of her mouth made Mya distrust the magicka settling in her hand.

Sheogorath sent a ball of pure power a few feet from where Stone-Fist stood, making the stocky man stumble backwards to get out of the way. Sheogorath's tinkling laugh sounded the entrance of a serious-looking man in a similar style of garb as the Daedra.

He looked Galmar Stone-Fist over once, sighing tiredly.

"Always a pleasure," he deadpanned.

"Haskill, my good chap!" Sheogorath cried happily, skipping to him and dragging the poor man away before Stone-Fist completely lost his composure and pummelled them both. Mya watched as the strange man's features formed into something akin to affection, as he bent from the waist up in a deep, respectful bow.

"My Lord," he greeted, tone crisp for all the affection in it.

Sheogorath smiled warmly, the manic tinge it had earlier slipping a little. "Haskill," she said. "Nice to see you!"

Haskill's dark eyes narrowed in exasperation. "Indeed it is, My Lord. Perhaps there was a reason for Your summoning of me?" He asked mildly, clasping his hands behind his back and tilting his head to the side. Sheogorath frowned, gold eyes searching.

"Support as such?" Mya fished.

"Ah," the Mad God said, gold eyes flashing with mirth as she turned on her subject. "Did you remember what I came here for, Old Man?"

Haskill's whole body seemed to sigh, but he endured Sheogorath's attentions quietly. Raising his long chin slightly, he cast dark, tired eyes down at the girl.

"You did indeed mention something about Your Wishes to aid the Dragonborn in her conquest of Cyrodiil, My Lord."

Her eyes brightened. "Ah, precisely!" She turned from Haskill and smiled brilliantly at Mya, hand resting on his arm. "What he said!"

Mya felt a nervousness wash over her, and she was quite sure that every other mortal in the hall did as well. "But I have no need to conquer Cyrodiil," Mya told them plainly, a surprisingly calm lit to her tone. "And even if I did, and you did not go back on your word, no doubt you would ask something ludicrous in return."

Sheogorath scrunched her nose up in thought, tilting her head as Mya had seen hawks do. "I swear by my honour as a daedra, or close enough to one, that I will aid you in your re-conquering of Cyrodiil, yes?"

This proclamation was met with a few scoffs, and Mya knew that if this god-child creature did not have such a one-track mind, that they would have already been dead.

Mya bit the inside of her cheek, her dragon soul humming at the prospect of more violence.

Sheogorath blinked, and Mya found that the golden orbs swirled with interchanging colours; they had been green at first, then nearly black, and now they jumped from yellow to gold.

"But," Sheogorath said as Mya opened her mouth to speak, "I would have it that you name your firstborn child after me." A dark brow rose at the statement, and the Mad God smirked. "I was mortal once, Ysmir. I even served as a Blade." Silence met those words, as Mya blinked owlishly in confusion. Sheogorath stepped closer, leant up and whispered, "Name the child Mila. That is my price. Come find me when your mind settles on the idea, yes?"

And then she was gone.


End file.
